Whiskey Sour
by Heath07
Summary: RyanSummer. Whiskey happens.


In response to **elzed**'s prompt: _Teh het pooooorn. Ryan... anyone you want, really - I mean, okay, not Marissa. But hey, Summer, or Jess, or Julie, for instance._

Something involving whiskey, and pretending to be able to totally hold your booze when actually, you're a bit beyond your threshold (whoever you are), and an accidental flash of sexy underwear that might just precipitate things. 

Title: Whiskey Sour

Rating: NC-17 Ryan/Summer

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Blah blah blah.

Notes: I don't really know what to say about this, except that it's all elzed's fault.

* * *

She stumbles into the pool house at half-past two with the fermented-stink of whiskey on her breath and sorrow in her eyes. 

"Hey, Ryan," Summer says and plops down on the mattress beside him, stretching out her legs in front of her and using one arm to brace herself. She lets out a sigh. Gone are the days when she called him Chino and not-so-subtly checked out his crotch. Now it's all soft looks and sighs and comfort. Replacing all that tension is the trust and something of a bond they've forged.

He relaxes back on the bed and moves his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling to keep from looking at her. He already knows what he'll find: puffy eyes, flushed cheeks and some skin-tight outfit that will make him curse out loud. He was startled when she barged in the first time three days ago, much the same way, but it was Jack Daniel's and a case of the giggles on the menu then, now he's come to expect her. "This is beginning to become a habit."

"Do you have a problem with that?"

He actually does take the time to think about it. He comes to the same conclusion he has for the last three nights. "No."

"Good," she says and takes a long pull from the bottle. He watches her from the corner of his eye, gritting his jaw so tight he sees stars. A slow drizzle of liquid slips from her mouth and runs down the length of her neck, pooling between her breasts, a place Ryan can only imagine. And he does, instinctively, before he shakes his head and the image becomes dislodged.

"It's been so long since I've drank, I'd almost forgotten what this shit tasted like." Holding out the bottle, she studies it, wiping her mouth with the back of her other hand.

Ryan smirks as he watches. But that's typical Summer, always at a crossroad between being unbearably sexy and defiant—kind of like Theresa. The image hits a chord and suddenly the bottom of that bottle is looking pretty damn good. But drowning his sorrows isn't the answer. He's hoping sooner or later Summer's going to figure that out for herself. She's certainly not going to listen to anything he has to say on the subject.

"You must really have a bad memory." He likes to play with her. Tease her, even. Because by morning she'll be gone and he knows they won't talk about this. He doubts she even remembers what they've said half the time.

"What does that mean?" she asks, hiccupping.

"Nothing."

"You're being weird. Stop it."

"Okay," he says and tries to relax, but he feels her eyes on him. She crosses her legs and he can see just the barest hint of black underwear under a barely-there skirt. And fuck, it's like she's doing it on purpose. He knows she's got something on her mind. "What?"

She lifts her eyebrows and tilts her head to the side. "We were fine before you and Cohen, you know?" she says, matter-of-factly. "Marissa and me, we were popular and fun and everyone wanted to be us and then you showed up and made me fall for that…for_him_."

" i _I /i _made you do that?"

"Shut up. You know what I mean. God, sometimes I just want to hit you, _Chino_." There is a bite to her words and a sharpness to her eyes and he can see just a little bit of the old Summer poking through. He wants to see her again, to see that fearless girl that never took no for an answer. He knows he's not the only person that lost himself this year. She's been lost too.

Ryan sits up and offers his chin. "If it'll make you feel better, do it."

She snorts. "Don't tempt me."

A quietness settles in the room. Ryan waits, looking for a sign to guide his actions. Summer is solemn. Sip after sip, she slides further down a dangerous path. She's so still. He doesn't quite know what the problem is—he has a pretty good idea, though. It's just…everything. It's Seth. And it's Trey. And it's Kirsten. And it's Marissa. It's all just…fucked up. And he understands. He does. And he knows that if she wants to tell him, she will, but the waiting is killing him. Finally, Ryan can't take it anymore. "Hey, she's going to be okay."

"I know that! Don't you think I know that?"

The anger, he welcomes. It shows him she's still got fight in her. "Then why are you here? Drunk."

Summer twists to look him in the eye, waving a finger at him while trying to maintain her grip on the whiskey bottle. "First of all, I'm not drunk. Second of all… Hold on, the room's spinning. I just need to sit down."

"You are sitting down," he tells her, smirking. Reaching out, he lightly touches her arm and slips the bottle from her hand. "Come on, lay back."

"Don't tell me what to do!"

Ryan places the bottle a safe distance away from her; he's heard about her temper--rage blackouts, he's been told by Seth--and he knows she's liable to use it as a weapon.

"Who do you think you are, my mother?" Summer laughs, laughs so hard she has tears rolling down her cheeks. "No, you couldn't be my mother. My mother's gone, probably getting shit-faced on the beach. Although, you don't write, you never call, so who knows, maybe you really are my Mom!"

"Summer."

She waves him away. "We're a lot alike when you think about it, you know? My mom's gone. Your mom's gone. My step-monster's a pill-popping loon. Kirsten's in rehab. God, rehab," she says as if she's just heard the word for the first time. "Things are really fucked up, aren't they? So, you see what I'm saying, Chino? We're practically the same damn person right now. Except for the whole ex-con thing… I mean, you've been behind bars. You're, like, a hardened criminal! I totally think it's hot, though."

"Uh-huh." It's kind of true when he thinks about it, which is absurd because there is no fucking way he's anything like Summer Roberts. But he can't deny anything she's just said.

"Do you…do you ever wonder what it would be like if you hadn't met Marissa first?" The timbre in her voice has changed and Ryan knows what's coming next. "I mean, what if you and I...?"

Before he can stop her, she leans in for a kiss. Ryan backs away, their lips just barely brushing. She doesn't know what she's offering --because tonight he'll take it. Tonight his resolve is low and his libido high and she's too much temptation for any mortal man. "I can't do this to Seth. Even if I had met you first, I can't--"

Summer recoils. "Just don't. I don't need you to feel sorry for me."

She won't look at him and her cheeks are stained red with rejection. And fuck him, because it's the hottest things he's ever seen. He can feel himself getting hard. If he doesn't get her out of here soon… "Come on, I'll take you home."

"Home?" she says, her eyes huge and vulnerable as she looks right into him. "No. I don't want to go home. What does that even mean?"

She's drunker than he thought. And it would be wrong--so very-fucking-wrong--to take advantage of that. "It's the place where you live."

"No, that's a house. A home is where you go to feel safe and loved," she says and her bottom lip juts out, trembling ever so slightly. "I used to be home here. But this year… It's like a storm swept through Newport and destroyed everything. This place wasn't supposed to be touched; it was supposed to have one of those stupid invisible shields like in one of Cohen's comic books! But Kirsten's gone, Marissa's in jail and everything's falling apart. We've all become strangers."

And she's crying, collapsing in his arms and sobbing like a two-year-old after a temper-tantrum.

"I'm sorry," she says and pulls away. "This is stupid." And she looks at him with those big brown eyes and pouty red lips, and he can't resist pulling her close again and pressing her into his chest, stroking her hair with his clumsy fingers.

"Shh…," he tells her, and it comes natural, but doesn't sit right on his tongue. And he can feel his heart pounding in his chest and a chill run down his spine. Something is about to happen. A change is coming. He can feel it thick in the air.

"Why don't you…stay." The last word sticks to the roof of his mouth, but she doesn't seem to notice or care.

"Really?"

He shrugs off her appreciation.

Wiping off her face, she attempts a smile. "Let me just go change and get ready for bed."

Ryan nods, resigned to the fact that his dick can double as a flagpole, if need be; it's literally _that_ hard.

Using his frame to steady herself, Summer stumbles to her feet. She crosses behind him and searches the cubby holes that contain his clothes. "I'm borrowing this," she says, holding up one of his wife-beaters. Not even waiting for his reply, she heads into the bathroom to change.

When she comes out, it's all she's wearing. It's too big on her and stretches down and out, just enough to cover everything he's not supposed to see. But she's not wearing a bra and he can see her nipples through the thin cotton and it's too much temptation for even him. Ryan clears his throat. He stands and moves away from the bed, away from temptation. "Uh, maybe I should go sleep in the guest room."

"Why?"

Why? As if she didn't fucking know! Maybe because he can't take another night of torture? Another night of their bodies pressed up against each other and a hard-on that never seems to go away. It's too much. He can't seem to get his voice above a whisper. "It's safer," he says.

"For who?" Her eyes narrow and her lips turn up into a smile.

"For me," he admits.

"Aww, think I'm going to take advantage of you in your sleep?"

"That's not it."

She's clearly amused now. "You scared of me, Chino?"

"No," he insists.

"Prove it. Come 'ere." She sways her hips to some music she must hear only in her head. It's this little provocative dance, full of wanton abandon and coiled energy. Her face has been scrubbed clean, leaving a beautiful canvas of rosy cheeks and soft pink lips. Her hair is a little wild and her pupils are black with just a hazy edge of brown around them. She's practically vibrating with drunken lust. Fuck. Damn right, he's scared of her, but even more scared of what he wants to do to her.

His steps are slow, stunted. When he's close enough to touch her, his hands wrap around her hips easily, and smooth down her ass, pushing her against his erection. "This is--"

Summer rolls her eyes. "Wrong. Blah, blah, blah. Now shut up and fuck me."

He shouldn't be surprised by her bluntness--he's been expecting just this for the last three long nights--but he is. "What!"

"Don't get all innocent on me now. We both knew it would come to this one day. Haven't you ever thought about it?"

Of course he has and she knows it. Now she's the one playing with him--teasing him because she can.

And he knows it's wrong. Everything inside of him is telling him to stop, but his body presses against hers and all those thoughts can't eliminate the need expelling from his pores.

There'll be regrets in the morning. There'll be excuses and promises made. And they'll keep it quiet until the truth explodes and the secrets find their way to the surface.

He picks her up, pulling her body flush with his only long enough to make it to the counter where he sets her down. Gripping his shirt—and God, it looks so much better on her—he pulls it up and over her head, throwing it to the floor.

"Fuck," he whispers and lets out a deep breath.

"I know," she says coyly. Because of course she knows exactly how hot she looks almost naked.

His palms ache to touch her breasts, and she laughs softly in his ear like she can read his intentions in his eyes.

Her tongue slips out of her mouth, licking the shell of his ear as her teeth scrape at the tender flesh. When she pulls his earlobe into her mouth, she bites down hard, whispering words he can't make out. And her fingers tangle in his hair, sharply pulling him to her as her lips move away and suction to his neck.

His resolve is weakening.

"Summer."

"Uh-huh?"

"You're drunk. This isn't--"

She pulls away, indignant. "God! For once can you just get off the moral high horse…at least, long enough for _me_ to get _you_ off."

"Why are we doing this?" He needs an answer. Something to help himself justify this, and he knows he won't quite find it, but even a half-assed answer will satisfy him.

"Because we can…" she says, slowly running her tongue over his bottom lip. "Because I've wanted you since I first saw you and I'm so sick of trying to be better than what I am. I don't know how you do it, Chino. How long has it been since you've even touched someone? How long has it been since someone's touched you?"

Her hands slip under his shirt, gently running over his toned abdomen. Ryan shudders.

"That long, huh?"

Summer's broken him and she knows it and he doesn't even care that he's ruining both their lives--that he's giving her exactly what she wants: self-destruction. Maybe he needs it, too. Maybe he needs to let go of being so perfect, of always doing the right things, because it never gets him anything but misery and loneliness.

Ryan rests his head against her shoulder, savouring the soft skin there and the scent of what might be strawberries, or maybe it's something more exotic that he's never even heard of let alone smelt. Letting his tongue explore to see if she tastes like strawberries too, he licks a trail across her collarbone, explores the valley between her breasts, the little hollow at her throat, before he lifts his head and crushes his lips to hers. There's no hint of strawberries, only whiskey. Her mouth is hot and she tastes like whiskey there, too. He wants to get drunk on her.

She kisses him back with an intensity that he's not really sure he's worthy of. He pulls back and stares at her. Summer does something he's not expecting. Her hand reaches out and sweeps the hair from his eyes then she leans forward and gives him a weak kiss on his forehead. "Go on, Chino, and don't hold back," she whispers. And, in an even deadlier taunt, "You know you want to."

Summer pushes herself forward on the counter, grinding her pelvis against the coarse denim and fly of his jeans. It wakes him up. He rocks against her, with her, letting her peel his shirt over his head and scrape her nails down his back. It surprises him and he grabs her wrists and holds them above her head, a question in his eyes.

"I thought you might like it a little rough," she says, quirking her brow, an implied question.

He relaxes his grip, but doesn't let her go. Her chest is heaving and there's a flush spreading over her body, a warm glow that makes her look even more voluptuous. He _likes it_ any and all ways she's offering.

Lowering his head, he licks her nipple, flashing his eyes back to her to see her reaction. Her eyes are closed and her bottom lip is sucked into her mouth. It gives him all the incentive he needs to proceed. He revels in the way she holds her breath and the way her skin twitches as his hot breath spreads over her delicate flesh. Taking her nipple into his mouth, he rolls his tongue over and around, gently biting down with his teeth, rewarded with little gasps and moans of approval.

Summer squirms, breaking free from his grip and lets her hands drop to his jeans between them. Nimbly undoing the button and pulling down his fly, the denim pools at his feet, giving Summer access to his boxer briefs. She traces his hard length with her nails through the stretchy cotton and laughs when Ryan bucks and groans. "Like that, huh?"

Yes, he does. He likes it a lot. And as much as he's loving the foreplay, if he's not inside her soon, he just might explode. "Sum-mer," he murmurs as she captures his mouth.

"Mmm?"

"We need a… I've got to get a condom."

"Okay," she says and releases him.

Ryan kicks his pants the rest of the way off as he scrambles around the room, searching for a condom. Grabbing his wallet, he checks for one there, only to slam it down when he comes up empty. There is nothing under his mattress and the bathroom cabinets yield nothing either. Standing in the middle of the room, he rubs his forehead in frustration. "I don't have any," he says with a mixture of disbelief and horror.

Summer, dressed only in her underwear, jumps from the counter to help look. "I've got one; just find my purse. And hurry!" she whines, looking every bit as desperate and irritated as he feels.

Ryan gets to the purse first, his fingers fumbling with the zipper from adrenaline and nerves. Successfully locating a condom, he brings it with him to the place where Summer is now standing. Crowding her until she backs up into the wall, Ryan places his hands on either side of her much smaller body, boxing her in. "That was very resourceful of you," he says with a sarcastic smile.

"I'm a resourceful girl," she counters.

"Mmm," he grunts and moves into for another fiery kiss. His tongue slips inside her mouth, and they battle for control, until Summer pushes him away.

"Now, why don't you put that on," she says, indicating the condom in his palm, "and I'll show you some of my other attributes."

It suddenly occurs to Ryan that he has no idea how Seth handled a woman like this.

Hooking his thumbs around her underwear, he pulls them down her thighs and past her calves, stroking her skin with his rough hands as he goes. He pulls off his own underwear, a little self-conscious as Summer watches his every move. They stand there for a moment, just looking at each other, until Summer breaks the tension. "Impressive," she says and reaches out to cup his erection in her palm.

"Yeah, well. You, too," he stammers. Ryan's entire body tingles and he bows his head from embarrassment.

"Here, let me." Snatching the condom from his hand, she rips open the packaging and sets about rolling the condom onto his hard cock.

Ryan blinks. He can't believe this is really happening. It's un-fucking-believable.

Lifting her into his arms, Summer grinds against his erection.

"Are you sure?"

She doesn't even dignify it with a response, simply pushes against him, bringing him that much closer.

Ryan pushes into her, and nothing has ever felt so right. She is tight and wet and he nearly loses it right then. Closing his eyes, he tries to concentrate, tries to think of other things other than the gorgeous woman in his arms, clenched around his cock.

He watches her face as he slides in and out of her hot, compact body, watches as a thin sheet of sweat binds them together and pleasure consumes her. It's a sight he won't soon forget. He loses his rhythm, begins to pump into her, harder and faster. He thinks it might be too much, but her legs lock behind him and she tilts her head against the wall, welcoming each thrust. He knows he's hit the exact right spot when her nails dig into his shoulders and she bites his neck.

"Fuck!" He nearly drops her, but recovers.

"Sorry," she stammers, breathlessly, licking at the wound. Summer begins to whimper and he knows she's close.

He can't help pulling her body tightly to his, caressing her back and shoulders as he moves inside her, like they're actually lovers, like this _actually_ means something. And he can feel her breath tickling his ear and he listens to the little "oh oh" noises she keeps makes and a sense of pride grows inside of him. When she starts to spasm around him, he pounds into her even harder than before and she holds on, rocking with him. And then he's coming, enveloped by her scent and taste and sounds. He lowers his forehead to hers as they milk that last twinges of their orgasms together.

A full minute goes by in silence. Ryan opens his mouth to speak, but can't find the words and snaps it shut.

Summer untangles her legs from around his waist and Ryan takes the hint. His arms ache as he lowers her to the ground and his shoulder stings a little where her teeth have scored him, but he doesn't mind the pain. Not until he looks at her.

Her hands are shaking as she moves the hair out of her face and tries to find her balance.

"You okay?"

Summer nods, but he can tell she's not okay. She's different now. Changed. There is no more joking around, no more teasing. She won't look him in the eye. She has sobered, realized that what they've done is real and it has repercussions. Keeping her eyes to the floor, her voice is not quite a whisper when she speaks. "I'm going to go, and…clean up."

Something tells him she's not coming out of the bathroom as long as he's there. After cleaning up as best he can, he pulls on a pair of pants, grabs a pillow and is set to put the guest room to use, but he stops and knocks on the bathroom door first. "Summer?"

No answer.

"Okay," he says, sighing, "I'm just going in the house. I'll give you some time to be alone…if that's what you need."

"Ryan?" Her voice is muffled by the door, but he can still hear the panic rising inside her.

"Yeah?"

"Don't tell Seth."

Ryan takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "I won't."

He expected this, too.

End-


End file.
